


everything the light touches

by illwoosion



Category: DreamSMP, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Dream is a bitch, absolute besties tommy and tubbo, and dream is the air, dreamsmp lore, kinda tommy-centric ??, post-jail dream, ranboo breaks dream out of prision, slaps fic look how many metaphors i can fit into this bad boy, slight sbi mentions, the characters in this fic are from the dreamsmp rp NOT irl!!, this is all purely rhetorics, tommy is the fire, tubbo is the earth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-18 04:42:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29112510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/illwoosion/pseuds/illwoosion
Summary: tommy is the fire that burns their land, their small section of world, in glowing fervour. he brings attachment and sparks joy into the hearts of homes. his skin is forever hot to the touch, and there's a vicious spark in his eyes that have yet to die out. this boy is the sun; if extinguished, their universe is gone.dream is the oxygen they breathe; the air that fans the flame, or blows it out entirely. no matter how much the people of his smp say they hate him, dream knows the truth: they need him- they crave his ruling and the games he creates for them.and escaping this damned prison cell is just another one of his little games.(in which i compare tommy to fire, tubbo to earth, and dream to air.)
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & TommyInnit, No Romantic Relationship(s), Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit
Comments: 4
Kudos: 71





	everything the light touches

**Author's Note:**

> tw manipulation

tommy is the evergreen fire, licking and spitting and rising flames that singe the edges of the smp. he smells like smoke and char and hunger, and his hair is a mop of blazing yellow (tinged with orange if exposed too long in the summer heat). he runs with a speed reminiscent of a forest fire sweeping over delicious wood, and cackles laughter like a gentle crackling campfire feasting on twigs and sticks and coal.

tommy burns their land, their small section of world, in glowing fervour. he brings attachment and sparks joy into the hearts of homes. his skin is forever hot to the touch, and there's a vicious spark in his eyes that have yet to die out. this boy is the sun; if extinguished, their universe is gone.

_the sun_. nobody can get close enough to tommy without sporting blistered fingertips and singed interactions. his anger and fury fuels tall, threatening flames that form protective barriers between him and the rest of the world. nobody has quite yet understood why he does this, not even wilbur, but it happens. it's just the way of the world, the nature of tommy, plain as day, black and white. this is tommy, angry and explosive, always ready for a fight. angry at the world, yet angrily loving those around him.

there are two people in the world who can (somewhat) control tommy.

the first is tubbo.

tubbo is like the earth- he is stable and grounding and present. he is never turbulent, only easy-going and calming. like the aftermath of a well-needed rainstorm on thirsty crops; tubbo smells like petrichor and trust.

fire does not spread so easily on smooth, unbothered ground. fire stays put, holds still, and waits earnestly and impatiently for more fuel, to which earth sits patiently and waits with.

fire _waits_. this in turn makes tubbo more powerful than wilbur, techno, _philza_.

tubbo laughs in waves like the rolling of hills. he listens closely at the world around him, and rambles in steep tangents that stretch on for hours and hours and hours. he trusts his friends similarly to how his potted plants trust him to water them, and he turns cold eyes toward his enemies as swiftly as a person may fall from the jagged precipice of a cliff. his pupils are a deep copper brown and his hands are rough and tired from building high-scale projects and experimental redstone contraptions. his clothes are streaked in dirt and the stubs of his fingernails store mud underneath all the small cracks and crevices. he upholds a steady maturity, but underneath, he blazes the same molten core that tommy swears by, the fire that burns out once adulthood calls. the fire that reminds everyone that tommy and tubbo are the same age, two sides of the same coin.

whilst fire jumps quick to conclusions and works from impulsivity, earth draws slow and steady reasonings. earth tames savage ideas, but does not extinguish them. tommy finds extensive crime in the most docile of opportunities; tubbo whittles it down to harmless toil and trouble. trouble that's just enough to keep the impulses of teenage boys plenty satisfied and borderline innocuous as to not anger those they pull pranks upon.

_children_. they are children. adventurous and wily and cunning, but merciful and easy to placate. harmless and ever-growing. the future of their smp- their section of the world.

children that should not have to lead wars, should not have their homes at stake, their childhoods threatened. children that develop undeserving, unnecessary trauma caused by a man who was simply _bored_.

the second person able to control tommy is dream.

(a lot happened during tommy's exile that his family and friends have yet to discover.)

dream is the air they breathe in. the thing that keeps them alive. omnipresent, omniscient. not quite so benevolent. he is their god, wether they like it or not. wether they realise it or not.

even the rebels worship him in ways they don't realise. thankful for the expanses of land dream has yet to occupy. thankful for the opportunities he has provided them. before dream, there was no l'manberg. no pogtopia. no smp.

dream is the seeker of knowledge. he breezes through the secrets of his fellow acquaintances, learns all he needs through the whisper of leaves. he knows what jack will gift niki for her birthday next week, what antics technoblade is planning next (retirement is an odd word for 'tyrannical anarchist commune') and everywhere ranboo has gone during his secret sleepwalking episodes that he forgets as soon as the sun has risen again. he knows tubbo has an intense, gut-wrenching fear of fireworks, despite crafting nukes in hopes to destroy him. this, he finds amusing.

there are dark, evil secrets hidden within the world he has created. he knows every single one of them, and none of which he ever forgets.

he knows that before the discs, tommy puts tubbo first. he knows that tommy is getting bored, no matter how indignant he is that dream is better off in that prison than dead. _after all_ , there's a reason tommy didn't kill dream where he stood when he had the chance. there's a reason nobody from snowchester, the badlands, el rapids, with their drawn bows and freshly sharpened blades hanging at their sides like props, dared to make a move against him. they need him, plain and simple. wether they crave his control, or to satiate their need of being the hero. these are dark people living on the lands he ceased to exist, and he understands that sometimes, they need to convince themselves they're on the right side of history. if it eases their conscience, then dream will happily be the villain in their stories. he feels each time they have a lapse of judgement, and he entertains them. he knows the truth, anyway.

dream was stupid to let that bastard kid take two of his lives. even after being exiled from the country he helped build, after been toyed and kicked into shy embers, after sitting at thanatos' gates, tommy still had the _audacity_ to rise up and challenge dream again. perhaps dream hadn't traumatised him enough. that was okay. the two of them being on their last life makes their game of cat-and-mouse much more interesting.

oxygen plays along with humans sickeningly so. he keeps them alive, yet chokes them at will. he supplies them too much, and their little brains cannot handle it. too little, they start to die. they need him so badly, that it's only a matter of time before they break him out of this silly little blackstone building.

even in jail, in the confines of an indestructible cell (in which he's not proud to say he helped fund. though, in his defence, this jail was never meant for him, never meant to hold him down any longer than the duration of his over-stay), dream knows everything. the voices in his head tell him. so do the spitting of the lava encasing him, the ticking of his clock, the scratch of his quill against paper. he is their creator, and they obey to his demand, bend to his will. he calls to them, and they answer.

they tell him ranboo is about to visit his cell a week before ranboo even considers walking into the prison. they whisper f _reedom, freedom, freedom._

oh, how he longs to see the sun. to feel the burning of it's flames, the flames he feeds and wills to existence. air teases and manipulates the licks of fire, but can extinguish it as quickly as the strike of a match. to watch the fire in tommy's eyes burn out from in front of him, to feel the heat escape from him.

everything the light touches is dream's for the taking.

_all in good time_ , he has to remind himself. _the real fun hasn't even started yet._

"i'm coming, tommy," dream breathes as sam announces he has a visitor.

he doesn't need to say who it is.

_"i'm coming."_

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first mcyt fic ahh!! thank you for reading this and I hope you enjoyed!  
> kudos and comments are greatly appreciated and I hope your day is going well :)
> 
> twt: @/technohotline


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